Don't You See?
by gleeme33
Summary: Natalie's thoughts as she decides to commit suicide. One-shot.
1. And So Goodbye

_**Don't You See?**_**, in which Natalie commits suicide – I must warn you, this is very dark. It's only rated M for the darkness, not for anything else, but hey – fare warning. Thanks and enjoy.**

_Don't You See?_

I thought it would get it better. That Mom would get better, and Dad would stop rambling about all the meds, and the specter that is Gabe Goodman's memory would leave our family. I thought we could be normal…or, at least, we could give it a shot. But when Mom tried to kill herself, all of that changed.

It wouldn't get better.

It _wouldn't_.

None of it would – not now, not ever.

She wanted to die. That day, Mom _wanted _to die. She wanted to end it all – 'I'm done', she might as well have said – and live forever with her perfect, perfect son in his perfect, perfect world of happiness and peace and bliss, and none of this numb, sorrowful, whispering pain would exist anymore. Gabe told her to do it, I'm sure. He probably said 'come with me', the way he talks to me – the way he tells me 'she's not there'. It sends shivers down my spine, it really does – 'you'll never be good enough,' he says. 'Never. Not now, not ever.'

So I might as well quit while I'm ahead.

I didn't get into Yale without being smart, ya' know – I wasn't going to be one of those dumb people who carry it out and leave behind a mess and a crime scene. No, see, I didn't want my Mom or Dad – or God forbid _Henry _– to walk in and find my dead body congealed in a puddle of blood, to find my body hanging limply in my closet, to find my broken bones in the yard, after I've jumped off the roof…

Like I said, I'm not stupid – I _know _where Mom hides her pills. Xanax, Valium, Adderall, the list goes on and on. It'll be quick and it'll be painless…I hope.

But you see, I'm not just jumping into this – like I said, I thought it would get better. I thought I could see a light at the end of the tunnel. I _thought _these thinks the way that a four-year-old _thinks _that the tooth fairy and Easter bunny and Santa Claus are really. Blind faith – I had blind faith. For a better tomorrow – a normal life...

A normal life where I'd get my degree from Yale in music and become a composer, and Henry would go to whatever school he wanted and become a jazz pianist, and together we would always play. We'd surround our lives with the joys of music, the emotion of the notes springing to life on our keys and into the ears of all who so wanted to hear them. With our wedding would come _Here Comes The Bride _and a whole lot of other over-done pieces, but it wouldn't matter then – it would be _our _wedding, and Henry and I are certainly _not _over-done. And after that would come our first baby – a boy, I'd image – named Finn. He'd have Henry's dreamy eyes and be my perfect, perfect son; so completely irreplaceable just as Gabe was to my mother. But he'd never leave me – he'd never leave me for Heaven so early on, he'd stay and he'd grow and he'd be so, so happy. And then we'd have a girl next – Lily, just like Lily Potter – and she'd be book-smart like me, but circumspect like her father, and oh, she'd be beautiful – my beautiful, beautiful daughter. And we'd raise our children in music – we'd show them through it's golden beauty the happiness, the sadness, the ways of the world. We'd show them the world through the song; we'd show them the song through the world…

But no. _No_…

This will never happen. I will never be normal. I'll never…

I'll never be good enough.

_She's not there, she's not there, she's not there…_

It pains me as I rip the note I've written out of the old, spiral-bound notebook – really it does. But it's for the best, I promise you it is. I'll probably save more lives by taking my own, anyway – less people burdened by my very existence. The note I've written, crinkled up in my hand now, looks like this:

Mom and Dad,

I'm with my brother now, I promise I am. We're happy together. We're sitting here together now, actually, looking down on the two of you. Gabe loves you. He loves you so much, and so do I. Don't be sad, please, don't be. Don't you see that I'm happier here? I was never happy with you – no, scratch that – I was never _anything _with you. Don't you see? No, actually, you didn't. But please, don't feel bad. It's better now. I'm at peace now. Please, tell my Henry I love him. – Nat

_I loved you once and though,_

_You love me still I know_

_It's time for me to fly._

_I loved you once and though,_

_I love you still I know_

_It's time for me to go_

_And so – _

_Goodbye_.


	2. Don't Forget to Breathe

**Here's another part. Not much to say. Thanks and enjoy.**

Gabe always seemed evil. He was always this taboo subject that we could never mention completely – like this horrible, darkness that was always over us like invisible mist. He was an unspoken pain that – just by, literally, saying his name – could cause catastrophe…

But I'd never thought of Gabe as an eighteen-year-old boy.

And here he was now with me, exactly as that. I would have never thought Gabe had blue eyes. I would have never thought Gabe had hair like my mother's. I would have never thought we had some of the exact same features – same jaw line, same skin tone, same nose. And we'd never actually…_talked_, either. For the most part, Gabe didn't mean bad on any of us – he was just scared. Scared of being forgotten…which I was.

"You were _not _forgotten," my brother snorted. "At least they said your name."

"At least you weren't still living while you were already dead."

"Well then…touché…" there was some silence for a minute, and then he said: "Nat, I should tell you something. You know all those times Mom thought she could see me?"

"Yeah…" I sighed. "You were practically the bane of my existence."

"Yeah, sorry about that…I really didn't mean it…" He looked down and then started again: "Look Nat, she _wasn't _hallucinating."

"Yeah, right," I deadpanned sarcastically. They say sarcasm is the defense of the weak – and I didn't have to feel weak…_be _weak anymore. "I take that back," I murmured, trying still to break the bad habit. "But…what do you mean?"

"I figured out a way to break through to their world," Gabe explained. "But there's a catch. Only one person at a time would be able to see you. Makes sense how sometimes only Mom could see me, and that one time with Dad, and those time you could've sworn you saw someone who looked a hell of a lot like your brother now? That's why!"

"Are you…are you asking me if I want to – "

" – Yeah Natalie, but there's some catches involved…" he warned. "These things are tricky, and you've got to be really, _really _careful. Like I said, only one person at a time. And you can only stay with them for a limited amount of time, too, or you'll start to feel like you're dying all over again, and you'll just end up back here, flat on your back gasping for air. Trust me, it ain't pretty."

"Okay…" I took a breath, and then coughed. "But…how would I…get through?"

"Stand like this…" he took my shoulders and made me stand with my arms at my side. "And close your eyes." I closed them. "And _breathe_. Don't forget to breathe, okay? That's important." I took a breath, and again found myself coughing…but not just _coughing_…coking, _burning_…

"But it hurts when I breathe…" I let out.

"It's supposed to," Gabe said. "That's the passing through part, I guess. And I know you're gonna not want to breathe, but you have to, okay? Just promise me you won't forget to breathe."

"I promise."

"Good. And Nat?"

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Be careful."

Henry hadn't played since that day he heard the news. His poor piano was becoming dusty and old by now; it was dying. _Dying_. How did he not know _she_ was _dying_? How did he _not know_? How? _How_? _How_! …

My God, that could've been her. She could've been right there, right there next to him…a flash, though, and it was gone.

Why wasn't it working? Why couldn't he see me?

Henry sighed. She wouldn't like this, would she? She wouldn't be happy with him sulking about like this. She'd yell at him, she'd tell him to go do something – anything just to stop the nothing…and for the first time since he'd heard the news, Henry started to play.

That's it! Now's my chance!

He played something jazzy, something creative, fresh and new. Life, Henry figured, could be a lot like jazz. You could make it into what _you _want to as you build off of what other people – the great ones, namely – have already done at the same time…_Bam_. It was like a gunshot. There he was, playing his jazz, feeling the emotion run from his hands to the keys…and his un-ridged, unstructured work that was not being played from the page, but only with improvisation…became Mozart.

"Natalie."

"Don't forget me, Henry. Promise me you'll never forget me."

"I don't know how you could even think…even think that I could possibly _forget you_…Natalie I _love _you!"

"And I love you, too," I whispered. "I'm sorry I did this to you. Maybe one day you'll understand."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Maybe one day. But Nat…there's so many things we…never got to do. I can't see you," he said. "I know you're there but…I can't see you…"

_Breathe, Natalie, _Gabe's voice said in head. _Don't forget to breathe_.

A deep breath, and he could wrap his arms around me again.

"Don't every leave me," Henry said. "Never again."

"I'm sorry. Henry I'm so, so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me. You never did, you never will. Not to _me_."

Our lips met for the first of many times right then. I never would have imagined this when I was alive…never, not in a million years. I would have thought I was crazy if I did. But crazy is perfect, and fucked up is perfect, and then, together, we were perfect. I always sort of had a secret wish that my first time would involve a piano. Not that I think of pianos like that, just…for the importance of it all. To Henry and I, anyway. Eventually I had to leave him, and Henry was back at square one, wishing and waiting for the day that he hears Mozart again.

**I always secretly wanted Natalie/Henry's first time to be on a piano :) **


End file.
